


The Receiver Returns

by aeoliandeductress



Category: The Giver (2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-13 22:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3397844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeoliandeductress/pseuds/aeoliandeductress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> After a long recuperation, Jonas ventures back to his community to reclaim the love he left behind. </i>
</p><p>**While I personally more firmly support the Kira/Jonas relationship outlined in the book series, a friend asked me to explore the Fiona/Jonas arc that the movie more firmly established.  This tale of Jonas's return and the consummation of his and Fiona's relationship is for her.  I hope you enjoy it as well.**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Decision

It had been a year.

A year since he had found the sled he’d known only in memory before. A year since he had heard the singing through the haze of his starvation and frostbite. A year since the Jacobsons had accepted Jonas and Gabriel as their own. And in that year there had only been one source of sadness and pain for Jonas.

Fiona.

He had promised he'd return for her. Once he had crossed the boundary of memory and all had been set right, he'd come back to retrieve the girl whose hair had been the first color he'd recognized. He’d promised.

But it had taken him a long time to heal from the injuries exposure left on his body and then there had been Gabe. Despite the kindly care of their new family, Gabe still clung heavily to Jonas. He was caught between big brother and father to the boy and didn't feel right abandoning him, even if it was for the woman who had saved their lives.

"Papa," he said, breaking the silence that accompanied morning meal with the elderly man.

"Yes son?" Jonas smiled at the term. While used in his former community, there it had lacked real meaning, despite its "precision of language." Here, it held warmth.

"Papa, there is something I have to do. Someone I must go to." Papa looked at him, and then a small smile came over his face.

"A girl, my young lad?" Jonas felt warmth flow through his face, knew his cheeks were pinkening in what was known as a "blush." He nodded, noting the twinkle in Papa's eye.

"I hate to leave you and Mama alone to care for Gabe, but ..." Papa shook his head and covered his hand.

"If this is something you must do, it must be done. We will care for Gabe in your absence, and welcome you both when you return. But son, are you sure it is safe to make the journey?" Papa's eyes radiated concern. Jonas thought and swallowed hard.

"I don't know if it is safe. I know only it is time."


	2. The Return

The week had been long, but much more manageable than his last pass through this barren unforgiving landscape. Armed with a proper map and adequate supplies, he was able to camp and eat in relative comfort. And this time he was armed with a tangible goal- one he knew was waiting for him. He smiled thinking of her long red hair, those piercing blue eyes, the taste and softness of her lips... he caught himself touching his own at the memory and smiled. He hoped she was still waiting for him- hoped that time had softened the wound of his betrayal to the community. In the distance he caught sight of the mist and, beyond he believed he saw a square of thatched roof. Giver's house.

He approached the mountain with care, sizing it up. Then, taking the grappling hook Papa had lent him carefully in his hands, he tied the rope. One, two, three swings and he launched- landing it squarely on the ledge. He climbed the cliff surface, panting and sweating. There he was- back at where it all began.

Jonas entered the house cautiously.

"Giver?" he called into the musty dark, but received no response. He wandered the halls down to the library where he had spent his favorite hours with the mentor. He touched the books, inhaling their aroma. He approached the chairs by the edge, the site of his training. Funny, it hadn't felt like training- even the harsh parts. It had been awakening more than learning. He sat in Giver's old leather chair and wondered what had become of his friend, of the one who gave him sight. 

Had the government punished him for Jonas's transgressions? Surely not once he'd cross the boundary... surely then they had KNOWN how much they would need the man's guidance and wisdom. But... what if they had seen it differently? What if the memories of war and violence had been more powerful than those of love and caring? And if so, what might they have done to Fiona, who had engineered his escape?

The sound of the door broke his meditation. He jumped up, eager as a puppy for the return of his master, and ran through the hallways.

"Giver, I'm back, I've come ba-" He stopped in the entry way to the small kitchen. The individual in front of him was not the withered but virulent old man he'd come to regard as a grandfather. Instead, there stood a slender young girl, with fiery red hair cascading off her shoulders, startled blue eyes staring into his, surrounded by the groceries she'd clearly dropped at the sound of his voice.


	3. The Kiss

"Jonas?" Her voice, so soft and trembling, pierced his heart. He felt himself surge forward, wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. _This_ is what he had come back for.

It took Fiona several moments to recover. Hands at her sides, tears streaming down her face, she let Jonas hold her but did not relax her muscles. Finally she drew a long shaky breath and reached a hand up to his face. He drew back to look at her, wetness from her eyes glistening on his cheeks.

"I thought... I mean I knew you must have crossed but... it's been so long..." Words tumbling over one another from her lips, unable to string into coherence. Jonas nodded, understanding what she could not bring herself to say.

"It's been a long year and there is so much I have to tell you. So much I want to know. But first..." He placed a finger under her chin, raising it slightly, and brought his lips to hers.  
It was as though a circuit had been completed; energy sizzled through both of them. Fiona felt her hand travel upwards of its own volition, grasping Jonas's shirt. His large hands seized her face, kissing her again and again, each time with more force and urgency, until the instant he caught her mid-breath and felt his tongue slip inside her mouth.

Oh... None of the memories Giver had granted him, nor any of the last year's experiences, had prepared him for this. In this he was mere mammal- reliant on instincts, experimentation, and need.

Their tongues, tentative at first, took turns exploring each other, while their hands roamed. Fiona's glided over the toned muscles of his back, while his tangled in her hair and glided down her slender form, then back up again, stopping at her breast. She broke the kiss, gasping, and looking at him wide-eyed.

Both stared at each other, then allowed their eyes to drop to Jonas's hand.

"S-sorry," he whispered, and started to remove it. Fiona quickly clasped her hand over his to keep it in place.

"No, um, no it feels... feels good...” Her words stuttered but her hand remained firm upon his own. “Um I read... you see after you left they opened Giver's library up to the community and well I read this book... usually people do these types of things in bedrooms." Her already flushed cheeks turned bright red and Jonas smiled. Apparently he wouldn't be leading this endeavor after all. She smiled back, looking down to the hand on her breast, taking it in hers and leading him to a small room in the back.


	4. The Build-Up

"You live here now?" Jonas asked, as they traveled down the hall. She nodded.

"I couldn't go back to my "dwelling" after... couldn't return to those who had betrayed me. Giver offered me this room and I learned what 'home' was." He nodded in understanding, following her through the doorway. He glanced at his surroundings. The bed was covered with a quilt, bright and colorful. A shelf to the left held as many books as it could, and on a chair sat a large stuffed version of what he recalled to be a "bear". It was cute, warm, and inviting and as he inhaled he realized it held the very essence of Fiona. 

Fiona shut the door behind them and gingerly settled herself on the bed. Jonas looked at her, lip captured by her top teeth, her muscles trembling ever so slightly. He knew he must look no better. He could feel the emotions flooding him alongside the blood in his veins, pumping ever faster in anticipation and fear, out of want and nervousness. He sat beside her, looking into those pupil blown eyes, sensing equivalent desire, yet neither of them knowing how to begin. His hand, however, possessed a mind of its own and wandered up to stroke her hair.

She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut, and he couldn’t imagine a sight more lovely in the entire treasure trove of Giver’s collection. She reached for his other hand and their fingers wove together in perfect stitches of skin and bone. He tilted her face upward towards him once more and restored the connection between their lips. He felt her give a soft sigh under his kiss and smiled. She scooted closer to him and he wove the hand that had caressed her hair around her waist. Her fingers roved his chest in light touches, electric through his thin shirt.

When she began to unbutton it, he thought he might come undone then and there. His member was in a state he only associated with early morning. Desire and need warred with one another- he didn’t know what was coming exactly, but he knew he didn’t want it too soon. Yet he needed more- more touches, more kisses, more skin. She tugged at the shirt with her free hand and he released her long enough to assist in its removal. She stared at his sweat-sheened skin, marveling in its accessibility and proximity. She glossed her fingers over his right nipple and he shivered, sending a spark right down to her core.

“Fiona… I um… I don’t know what I’m doing…”

“Neither do I. I mean I read that book but I haven’t … well you are the only one I could…” Desperation flashed in her eyes and Jonas grinned. Ever endeavoring to prove her loyalty. He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

“That’s not what I meant. I wanted to say, would it be okay if we took off your dress too? I um… I want to see you.” Heat flushed his cheeks at the audacity of such a request, but she nodded with a shy smile. She turned slightly, lifting her hair from her graceful neck.

“Can you help me with the zipper?” He’d never been more eager to honor a request, raising his shaking hands to meet the challenge. He undid it slowly, savoring the appearance of more and more ivory skin speckled with freckles, interrupted only by a thin strip of white fabric in the middle of her back and at the end of the zipper. Fiona stood up and peeled the dress off, standing before him in a simple white brassiere and panties. Her whole body flushed in apparent envy of her hair. _She looks so vulnerable_ , Jonas thought, the word coming to him from the echoes of his earlier teachings. Though one glance at the bulge in his pants relayed his needs just as readily. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, wanting to reassure her. She smiled but her eyes remained wild, ready to flee. He reached out to lightly grab her hips, to keep her with him. “Come here. Please.”

Fiona took a step forward into his embrace and then another. She felt his large hands slide around her from her hips to her back and then down, cupping her bottom through the thin cotton fabric. She stared at him in shock.

“Is this okay?” he asked, praying she didn’t ask him to remove her hands. She chewed her lip a moment, then nodded, and then in a moment of impulsivity, she sat herself across his lap. The friction brought an immediate groan to Jonas’s lips, surprising them both. He grabbed her bottom tightly and sought her lips with his own. She joined him in the kiss eagerly, wrapping her arms around him, letting her hands wander freely. She slid them under his shorts, gripping his own posterior just as firmly, and felt a light throbbing start in her loins. 

_What a funny word- loins_ , she thought, remembering the book with the shirtless man called a Viking and the scantily clad woman on the cover. She hadn’t understood much of what she read, but she had loved the feelings it created in her. She had searched the entire library for something similar, but had come up empty. Now she was certain she could write volumes of her own- whole novels dedicated to the caress of his hands, the heat of his mouth, the sensations she felt bubbling inside her as she started to rock ever so gently against the throbbing hard mass beneath his shorts.

“Mmmm Fiona that’s… you’re… mmmazing…” Jonas groaned around her mouth, his hands squeezing her breasts and bottom, feeling himself growing impossibly harder. He let his hand drift upward and discovered a clasp at the back of her brassiere. I should ask. But the rational part of his brain had no power over his deft fingers, releasing the cotton fabric and revealing the first breasts his eyes had ever seen. He thought his heart might stop and he dove into her, his mouth aiming to devour the delicious flesh before him. He could hear Fiona squeak and then moan above him, still moving her hips against his lap as her hands tightened in his hair.

“Jonas…” A reverent whisper amidst a previously forbidden act. The rightness of it resonated in his chest amidst his animal instincts. “Jonas, I need… I need…” She was whimpering as he licked and then sucked each nipple, quickly switching between each, marveling as they rose to perfect hard peaks. He looked up, her wide eyes staring into the depths of his own.

“What sweetheart?” The endearment fell easily from his lips. He’d heard Papa use it with Mama nearly every day and he had long ago decided that Fiona was the one to whom he’d bestow the title. “What do you need?” She stopped moving against him, panting and staring at him, trying to regain her words. Her face was flushed both with need and embarrassment. She didn’t know how to tell him.

“In the book… well the way… Jonas, I need you inside me.” His eyes widened. He had no concept of what she meant but somehow knew he needed that just as badly as she.


	5. The Coupling

Fiona looked at him fearfully, terrified she’d scared him off of finishing what they’d started. Jonas blinked several times, then lifted his head to kiss her rose red mouth. 

“How?” he asked, clear of his own ignorance. Fiona took a deep breath, then pulled herself off of him, pushing herself more fully onto the bed. She removed her white panties and Jonas marveled at the reddish-brown hair covering the triangle between her legs. He’d never known want like this.

“You need to take yours off too,” she stated, her voice quivering. One of her hands cupped her own breast. Jonas quickly rid himself of the shorts, baring his dripping member to her. He’d touched himself a few times, fascinated by the sensations but never for more than a few minutes. The sensations, though lovely, had been overwhelming in their rawness and he somehow had felt wrong and dirty in doing so. He was certain it had to do with his upbringing but, try as he might, he hadn’t been able to broach the topic with Papa- it was just too embarrassing. But here, in this room, with the girl whose heart’s beauty radiated through her entire body, here he’d have every last thrill and not feel a shred of guilt. Nothing could be more right than this.

Fiona’s mouth opened a bit at the sight of him. She reached out a hand and stroked him, sending shudders all through him. Clearly pleased, she repeated it and received a groan from her efforts. At her third caress, Jonas grabbed her hand and pressed it to his chest, panting and heart racing.

“Sweetheart, that… that feels amazing, “ he explained when he found his words once more, “but I am about to burst in some way and, I don’t know how I know, but I know I want to only do that when I’m within you.” She smiled, gleeful in her ability to excite him. Some day she would cause him to do just that- burst merely at the touch of her hand- but today they both needed so much more. She pulled his hand to bring him down on top of her, kissing swollen lips and rubbing naked skin. She felt him… his “cock” (as the book had termed it) thumping solidly between her legs as they moved, creating tiny jolts of ecstasy within her. She twisted and writhed beneath him, trying to take hold, and yet not knowing her own body well enough to be certain of the mechanics.

“Jonas… your hand… please- there is supposed to be an opening down there… just for you.” He looked at her, blinking a moment while caressing her cheekbone with is thumb, then trailed his hand down her body. He ghosted her nipple, circled her navel, and sifted through the silky damp hair awaiting him. Fiona moaned. He was utterly throbbing now and probed delicately but determinedly to find his entrance. Between the folds he felt a dip and he carefully pushed his finger inward, not wanting to hurt his precious girl. Her eyes widened in a silent gasp.

“OH yes… that’s… Oh!” He was rocking his finger within her, moving it back and forth and in and out. He added a second, wanting to stretch her, watching her face as it danced with pleasure. He had no allusions of great size but still sensed the need for this preparation. Or perhaps he just loved watching her like this, back arching and mouth open as her fists clung to the sheets to ground her.

“Jonas- oh that’s… but I need… want… more please…” Only at this plea did he withdraw, raising the fingers that had penetrated her to his lips to taste. He leaned forward on one elbow, kissing her sweetly as he guided his cock to align with her entrance. He started to push and she tensed, pain written in her features. He stopped but her small strong hands pressed into his back.

“No… it’s okay… you can keep going…” she whispered, looking into his eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he responded, genuinely concerned. She smiled.

“You won’t… I’ll be okay… please I need this… I need you.” The desperation of her voice drove him forward, and with one swift thrust he breeched her… or, more accurately she enveloped him. She cried out and wrapped her legs around him, her face now buried in his shoulder. He was lost in a myriad of sensations from heat to wetness to soft firm hands grasping desperately at his back. He rocked back and forth, feeling the friction of their coming together, reveling in the perfection of their fit. He listened to her breathing heavily into his ear, soft moans punctuating her panting now and again. 

“You feel… Fiona I can’t… the words…”

“Precision of language be damned.” He huffed a laugh at that and maneuvered his face so he could kiss her. Then he withdrew further than he had dared and thrust sharply back in. She moaned beautifully at that and thus he repeated the process, determined to memorize every angle that made her body sing just so. He could feel himself tighten- knew that an explosion had to be imminent and yet his entire focus was on her. He wanted to keep her like this forever- her lovely face, her broken exaltations, her arching and grinding against him and closer than he ever dared dreamed. His body and thoughts were invading hers and hers his, spirits intertwined as much as bodies. _Joined in holy union._ Thoughts were becoming few and far between and yet that one crystallized fully.

“Jonas, I … I think I’m… I’m going to break….” Her cries were more desperate now. _Break? Should he stop- could he stop?_ But she did not appear in pain- in fact, she appeared to be arching into him, meeting his every thrust. And then in a second, he felt it- her tightening and spasming around him- her eyes fierce and free. That was all he could sear into his memory as he too burst, feeling himself spill into her and his mind go white- a snow this time with heat rather than bitter cold.


	6. The Journey Home

It was several moments before he returned to her- her soft touch grounding him back to earth. She stroked his face and smiled, her hair damp from their exertions. He kissed her nose, and then shifted off her, his fingers never leaving her silky skin. He gathered her back into his arms and her head rested on his glistening chest, their rhythmic breathing the only sounds in the sweet afterglow. He bent and pecked the top of her head, inhaling the sweet scents of her hair. She turned and just stared at him, her face sweet and open and yet so full of depth that Jonas could never hope to read all of her. He could only hope she would always trust him, always be his.

“I’m so glad you came back for me, “she whispered, clutching him a bit tighter.

“Please tell me that you didn’t doubt I would.” The thought of her giving up on him gave ache to his newly awakened heart. She took his hand and wove their fingers together.

“I never doubted you. I questioned whether you survived, imagined horrible scenarios where you were dead, or injured, or maybe captured by another community- there’s still so much outside of here that I do not know… but I knew that if it was within your power, you’d come back to me. Giver agreed and together we waited.” Her voice was soft now, trailing off. Jonas sensed there was something she wasn’t telling him.

“Fiona?”

“Oh Jonas, he tried. He tried so hard to hang on for your return. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before, I just… seeing you… I was overwhelmed and I just wanted…” Tears were sliding down her cheeks and he clutched her tighter. His mentor was gone. Wetness filled his own eyes.

“When? How?”

“About a month ago. He was just old, Jonas, and well, he didn’t want most of the medications that the Elders could offer him. He wanted to feel everything- he feared anything they gave him would take that away.” Jonas nodded, tears sliding down his cheeks now. He understood Giver’s fear of numbness, a fate far worse than any pain. “He wrote you a letter and asked that I give it to you when you returned.” She leaned away from him then, opening the drawer of the small nightstand beside her bed. She pulled out a single white envelope and handed it to him. Wiping his eyes, he took it from her and opened it. Inside was a single piece of notebook paper with the scrawled writing of the one who gave him Sight.

_Dear Jonas,_  


_If you are reading this, it means I’ve gone before your return. I pray that you find our girl all right here at our quarters. You must know that in all our shared memories I don’t think I ever witnessed fidelity quite like hers to you. Cherish that- it is a rare gift indeed._   


_The community has been changing since you’ve left- for the better I believe. It will take a long time to re-build and re-integrate the new ways with the old, but I trust that their hearts are now capable. You gave them that, you know? They were the Tin men and women and you returned their hearts to them. (Did I ever lend you that book? It’s Fiona’s most recent favorite… she can explain it to you.)_   


_I don’t have much time left and before I go, I must say this. You did well, my son, and you gave all that was needed. Your part is **done** , you hear me? Do not feel obligated to come back and take my place in an attempt to guide this land. You have a million adventures ahead of you- you and Fiona and little Gabe- and you have earned your right to have every one of them. Go forth and enjoy all the emotions that life gives you, even the unpleasant ones. Perhaps especially those. Love and cry and laugh and sing like it’s all there is to life because, well, ultimately it is. Maybe one day we will meet again. Regardless, know that I love you, that I’m proud of you, and that I live on in you. In my heart you shall always be my son. _   


_Love,_  
 _Giver_

Fiona held him as his tears spilled onto the paper in front of him, then into her fiery red hair. The sobs that racked him were raw and wretched, more forceful than his responses to Giver’s visions of war or other pain. This loss was sharper, deeper. This loss was his.

“Why didn’t I leave sooner? Why didn’t I-“ His words cut off by his own heaving sobs. Fiona stroked his hair, kissing his forehead and brow soothingly.

“No, no Jonas, don’t do that sweetheart.” Despite his loss, his heart stirred at her returned use of the endearment. “Jonas, you couldn’t have known. Giver knew you loved him. He knew that you wouldn’t have stayed away for any reason but the necessary. He knew.” She whispered it over and over again into his temple as his weeping slowed, still clutching her desperately. At last he wiped the last tear from his eyes, all energy drained from him. He laid back on her bed and she followed suit, still wrapped around him. He stroked her hair and then kissed her lips. He could feel himself drifting off but he couldn’t sleep, not until he’d said this.

“Fiona?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.” She turned to look at him then. Her blue eyes met his hazel ones.

“I love you too.” She responded deliberately, giving each word the weight of merit it deserved. They kissed and she settled back onto his chest to sleep. Tomorrow they would discuss how best to return to Papa and Mama and Gabe. He would tell her of their kindness and how their community differed from the one they had known. Perhaps they would be able to obtain transport for their journey back. He’d ask her to tell him of the book Giver had spoken of and they would make love all over again. Then they would go home. Tomorrow they would … Jonas’s eyes drifted closed with one final thought…

_With her, I’m already home._


End file.
